


Talking Body

by hopelessbookgeek



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 02:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5479313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelessbookgeek/pseuds/hopelessbookgeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tipsy York is particularly annoying, so North and Wash conspire to make him jealous, only now York's got some ideas of his own...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talking Body

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to "Talking Body" by Tove Lo a LOT while writing this. It's what I imagine North and Wash dancing to. It's also just a really good song. Anyway. Enjoy!

“I think I hate parties,” Wash said to North, who smiled.

“You don’t. You hate babysitting drunk York.”

Wash’s eyes followed York’s half-dressed body as he spun around the dance floor. Wash had to hand it to the guy; he couldn’t dance worth a shit, but his enthusiasm was boundless. “Alright, that’s definitely it.”

North watched York too with something more akin to mild amusement. He’d stolen North’s helmet for the party, claiming now no one would be able to tell when he got drunk. The fact that his slurred words and his dancing like a disjointed marionette gave him away instantly didn’t seem to occur to him. “Did he come in wearing jean shorts or did he somehow lose his pant legs during this party?”

Wash sighed. “I wish I remembered. I guess I’m lucky this is only Tipsy York and not Drunk York. Last time I saw Drunk York, he fell down the stairs and then yelled ‘get wrecked’ at the top of his lungs, and then he slept for fifteen hours.”

“Oh, I remember that. Almost broke a rib, the idiot.” The idiot stumbled over to them. His shirt had obviously been unbuttoned and hastily rebuttoned incorrectly, for whatever reason. “Hello, York.”

“Heyy, North Dakota. Friendly advice, buddy man, if you need to use the bathroom, go back to our quarters. South’s in the one next door with CT.”

“Banging?” Wash asked, partly for clarity’s sake but partly because he knew it would irritate North.

“Like a screen door in a hurricane, buddy man.”

North grimaced. “Stop saying ‘buddy man’. And stop talking about my sister getting laid!”

Wash would have bet anything that York was giving North a big sloppy grin under the helmet. “You’re just jealous,” York said, his syllables barely slurred, “that everyone you know is gettin’ laid but you.”

For a moment, genuine annoyance crossed North’s face, but it was a flash of lightning that soon disappeared. “I need a drink myself after this. Wash, you want anything?” Wash shook his head and North disappeared into the crowd, his leather jacket seeming to absorb the disco lights Florida had set up; even here, he would not let his environment touch him.

When he was gone, Wash turned back to York. “I hope you know if you’re hungover tomorrow, I’m practicing my opera.”

“Nah, you love me.”

Wash rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I love you. But also, you’re inconveniencing me, so I’m gonna inconvenience you. Life’s a bitch and so am I.”

“You stole that line from Carolina,” York accused, but there was no heart in it. He knew not to fuck with Wash. “You look cute,” he offered, a peace treaty.

Wash looked down at himself, his plaid flannel shirt and his dark jeans. “Thanks. South said I look like a lesbian, and Wyoming called me ‘all-American’, which, coming from him, I don’t think is a compliment.”

“You’d make a pretty lesbian though. Your hair is getting long.” That was true. Wash kinda liked it. “You need to get it cut.”

“We’ll see. Oh, look who it is. Carolina!” She turned when he called, her red ponytail brushing her cheek when she did. “York, go say hi.” When York’s back was turned, he escaped into the crowd. It wasn’t that he didn’t love York– he did, with all his heart. But God, even Tipsy York was an annoyance that he did not particularly want to deal with, and Carolina would take good care of him.

Halfway onto the dance floor, he ran back into North. “Oh! Hey.”

“Hey. Want to dance?” There was something in his voice like mischief and Wash agreed. Mischief had always been an attractive quality. They left Carolina to babysit York and stepped more into the fray of people, the song pounding around them, something slow and sensual, the kind of song you make love to. North, who had always kept a respectful distance, stood close to Wash and settled a hand on his hip. “Whoa, hey.”

“Sorry, is this okay?” He didn’t pull the hand away and Wash didn’t ask him to.

“Sure, just surprised me. One drink and you’re getting a little handsy, huh?”

“Well, I could continue to give York shit about being a mess, but instead…” He leaned in close, his hips swaying to the music, but they were so close that it felt like he was grinding against him. The reality of how tight his jeans were set in. “It’ll piss him off a lot more to see me out here with you,” North murmured in Wash’s ear, and his tone was so smoky that Wash shivered. If York were watching, he’d certainly be annoyed.

York had been Wash’s first kiss, his first everything. No one else had even touched him, and York loved that claim fiercely. Seeing North touch him, dance with him… Maybe he’d get real jealous and fuck him hard later to stake his claim. The thought made him warm and North looked good so Wash swung his hips against North’s and let their bodies share heat and space. North’s eyes were the same lovely light blue as ever, but there was something hotter in them now, and Wash wondered what it would be like to fuck him. He was a gentleman; would he fuck like a gentleman? Would he lay Wash down carefully and shower him with kisses and call him _sweetheart, love, darling_? Or would be be rougher, all that courtesy hiding a dominant core more like South’s, would he lay back and pull Wash on top of him and sink his fingertips into his hips and thrust up into him with murmurs of _slut, you love this, harder_?

Both sounded nice. Wash wound his hands in the leather of North’s jacket and felt all the hard muscle under his palms. Their hips swung together to the beat and if he wasn’t mistaken, North was getting hard. The thought made him grind his hips into North’s a little bit more in the guise of getting into the music, innocently like he wasn’t desperately hard himself. North was so _tall_ , taller than anyone but Maine, and he was strong, probably as strong as York; if York could hold Wash up against the shower walls and take him hard, couldn’t North do it too?

He pulled him down so that he could whisper in his ear. “York’s gonna think I’m telling you something dirty. You should smirk.” He couldn’t see North’s face, and thus didn’t know if he did as asked, but he assumed he did. This was North’s idea after all.

“You could really tell me something dirty, you know,” North murmured, his breath hot against Wash’s neck.

“I could tell you that earlier, when we were getting dressed, York offered to fuck me tonight while still wearing your helmet.”

North groaned a little, and Wash hoped no one else heard. Doubtless they wouldn’t expect it came from North anyway. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him I would know it’s not really you, since he’s shorter and tanner than you are. Now I’m thinking if it’s dark I won’t really notice.”

“Do you think I’m the kind of person who wears my helmet during sex?”

“I don’t know,” Wash whispered as the song came to an end, “but I wouldn’t mind finding out.”

The song switched to something more upbeat and Wash stepped away from North. His pale cheeks were flushed almost red but there was a slight curl to his upper lip that said _danger_ and he liked it. He turned to York, whose face he couldn’t see, but the clench of his fist told him all too well what he was thinking. York waved him over and Wash smiled at North, who smiled back a little vacantly and rubbed the back of his head.

“Hello, York,” Wash said when he reached him, as sweetly as if he’d just woken up next to him.

“Bathroom. Now.”

He followed him obediently, the way he always had, and as soon as the bathroom door swung shut behind them (thank God South and CT appeared to have vacated the premises), York pushed Wash up against the sinks, hands on his waist. He let go of Wash only to tear his helmet off and drop it on the floor, and before Wash could appreciate the sight of York’s handsome face, he was kissing him fiercely, hands grabbing anywhere they could reach.

“Knew you’d be jealous,” Wash gasped when York shoved one hand down his jeans and grabbed his cock.

“You were grinding on him, and he _liked_ it. You thought I wouldn’t mind seeing your hips up against some other guy? You could get any guy hard as a rock with those hips but that’s supposed to be just me. Your hips and everything you do with them belong to me, you little whore.”

York, Wash couldn’t help but notice, was also hard as a rock. Interestingly, his voice had lost its drunken quality and he sounded as angrily sober as he’d ever been. “Maybe I decided I _would_ want you to wear the helmet tonight.”

“Yeah, I bet. I bet you told him that, didn’t you? I saw his eyes glaze over when you were practically rubbing his cock.” He started stroking, hard and rough, and Wash saw stars. “You were thinking about fucking him, weren’t you? You want _him_ to drag you back here, make you get on your knees and suck him off? You look so innocent, make you want him to treat you like the dirty slut you are and come on your face.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” he said and he moaned, York’s fingers teasing the head of his cock. “He’s taller than you, strong, maybe he’s got a bigger dick, maybe he’d fuck me better than you can. Maybe all that niceness comes off and he’d take me hard, and we wouldn’t even think about you the whole time.”

York groaned a little at that and paused to trace his fingertips in unknowable patterns on the underside of Wash’s cock, and he spread his legs a bit to help him. York buried his face in Wash’s neck and sunk his teeth into his earlobe. “You better come real fuckin’ fast, cause I’m getting impatient to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours.”

God, how could he resist? When York started stroking again, Wash gasped and came, spilling into his boxers. It would be gross later, but he was still seeing fireworks from York’s rough touch. He moaned in disappointment when York withdrew his hand, but when he stuck his fingers in his mouth to clean them of come, it was fucking hot. Wash dropped to his knees before York even had to ask, tugging York’s jean shorts to his mid-thighs and swallowing his cock in one fluid motion. “Oh– Christ, Wash… You little– oh, God– you little whore… Do you wish– fuck– this was him instead?”

Wash didn’t answer, didn’t pull away from him long enough to, just moaned and let York feel the reverberations. York wound a hand in Wash’s hair and rolled his hips just slightly; despite his fine words, he was being gentle, and letting Wash set the pace. He did and did it to his satisfaction, and all those fine words fell into broken groans and curses tumbling over each other.

“Wash, fuck, I’m close– I’m gonna come, Wash…”

He pulled away then, his hand still stroking the shaft. He knew York loved the sight of pre-come shining on his lips. “Where do you want to come? Do _you_ want to come on my face?”

York moaned and bucked his hips. “Fuck… put your mouth back on me, let me come down your throat…”

Wash took him down again and in moments York was calling out his name in a voice an octave higher than normal, the full _Washington_. Wash swallowed it all dutifully and worked him through the aftershocks, hand gentle and teasing, tongue flicking around the head of his cock, and then he pulled away. “That was something,” he said mildly, and York laughed.

“You’re something else,” York added, fixing his pants and picking his helmet up while Wash cleaned himself up as best he could. “We should do that more often.”

“We do that often enough. You’re lucky your dick hasn’t eroded away.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” He kissed Wash sweetly, murmured an I love you, and then they went back out to the party. North gave them a knowing look. Wash blew him a kiss that he, deadpan, pretended to catch and throw in the trash, and things were back to normal.


End file.
